By Anne M. Jackson
Assistant County Attorney in Bell County (and recently, Assistant Criminal District Attorney in McLennan County)
There are days when I wonder which part of my life more defines me: parenting or prosecuting. Each has to do with applying rules to facts on a case-by-case basis and providing consequences to deter bad behavior and reward the good. Over the last 20 years, Autism Spectrum Disorder (ASD) has descended on both worlds and caused me to think about things from the perspective of a mind much different from mine. This article attempts to describe how autism informs my decisions as a prosecutor and has inspired me to share my family’s autism journey with colleagues in the criminal justice system.
Why should prosecutors care about autism?
Autism affects only 1–2 percent of the population, so why should prosecutors and police officers be concerned about it? According to the Center for Disease Control (CDC)’s Autism and Developmental Disabilities Monitoring (ADDM) Network, approximately 1 in 44 children were identified with autism spectrum disorder in 2018. ASD is reported to occur in all racial, ethnic, and socioeconomic groups and is more than four times more common among boys than girls. During a study period of 2009–2017 (according to reports from parents), approximately 1 in 6 (17 percent of) children aged 3–17 years were diagnosed with a developmental disability. These disabilities included autism, attention-deficit/ hyperactivity disorder, blindness, and cerebral palsy. The same CDC website states that people with ASD are seven times more likely to come into contact with law enforcement. In other words, as prosecutors, we will meet someone with autism. It’s just a matter of time.
An autism intervention team
In April 2015, juvenile probation officer Chelsea Carnes reached out to an autism parent I know with a good question: “How do I help children in the juvenile justice system who exhibit characteristics of autism?” Chelsea had several children in her caseload who appeared to be on the autism spectrum, but she had no autism-specific resources at her disposal to help these kids successfully complete probation. That autism parent, Susie Marek, works for a nonprofit in Belton named Heart of Central Texas Independent Living Center (HOCTIL). Susie knew I was a prosecutor—and the mother of a teenage son on the autism spectrum—so she invited me into the conversation. The three of us decided to meet later that month for a conversation and to invite a few friends and colleagues familiar with autism.
At that meeting, we frequently found ourselves using the words “escalation” and “de-escalation” as parents told stories of autism meltdowns and crises. We then turned our attention to the need to intervene in these situations in meaningful ways as parents and professionals, so we brainstormed whom to invite to our next meeting and what to call our new group. What resulted is a ensemble of concerned juvenile probation officers, police officers, educators, licensed professional counselors, board-certified behavioral analysts, attorneys, autism parents, and local nonprofit leaders meeting monthly to address gaps in our criminal justice system for individuals with autism.
One of the first things we discussed was that no one enters the criminal justice system without interaction with police officers. This began our quest to meet with local officers to see what they knew about autism. We began calling ourselves the Bell County Autism Intervention Team (BAIT) and in partnership with HOCTIL, we created a “three R” mission statement. With respect to autism, we aspire to:
• train first responders to recognize the signs,
• empower families to implement an appropriate response, and
• equip communities with therapeutic autism-specific resources.
Sometime in 2016, retired police officer (and super grandparent) John Jennings brought to a BAIT meeting a big blue duffel bag full of items which he called an Autism Sensory Kit (an ASK bag). John had been researching ways to help his grandchild and the law enforcement community he loves so much. He found a little plastic box of sensory items being used in Pennsylvania, which seemed like a good idea, but he feared it would not have a lasting impact on law enforcement. His experience was that police officers learn best when they have access to a reliable, professional tool. John also recognized that these sensory items would be a great hands-on resource with which to teach others about autism. John utilized a bag large enough to be visible in a patrol car and to accommodate a bath towel or weighted blanket. The acronym “ASK” is embroidered on the bag and has a dual purpose: No. 1, to prevent the bag from being repurposed, and No. 2, to generate interest. When someone sees the blue bag, they might “ask” about it.
John donated a couple of fully stocked ASK bags to our team. The bags are full of sensory-friendly and fidget items, including noise-cancelling headphones, a ball cap, sunglasses, a large plush towel, a dry-erase board with markers, communication and picture cards, fidget spinners, Rubik’s Cubes, Pop-Its, and a tablet or computer of some type. These items are helpful when first responders interact with individuals with autism because people with autism often have different types of sensory and physical sensitivity. These sensitivities can be mild or severe and are often exacerbated when something unexpected happens or there is a disruption in routine, such as a car wreck, witnessing a domestic violence assault, or being lost.
As a prosecutor and a mother, I did not initially realize the utility of the ASK bag. I was in the midst of trying to ensure that my autistic son passed his classes and graduated from high school. I was focused on grades and academics! I underestimated the value and power of using a real thing (like a fidget) to enter the world of someone who has autism. I also was not quite sure how to put the bag in the hands of people who might use it.
Seeing a need
BAIT loved the idea of the ASK Bags in 2016, but we realized that crucial to distributing this helpful resource was training about what autism looks like and ways to de-escalate an autism crisis. The idea remained stagnant until 2020 when two important things happened:
1) In July 2020, Sergeant Teresa Phelps of the Bell County Sheriff’s Office (BSCO) asked me to speak to a CIT (Crisis Intervention Training) class about autism.
2) Between 2015 and 2020, Dawn Owens, Chief Juvenile Probation Officer at Bell County Juvenile Services, saw a growing need for the juvenile justice system and law enforcement to better understand youth with ASD and IDD (intellectual and developmental disabilities). (More about the education and resource efforts in the juvenile system in the sidebar “Intervening with juveniles with autism,” on page 35.)
At the height of COVID in July 2020, I was in sweats and a T-shirt working from home. My oldest son Tres (Michael Leslie Jackson III) was home from college. Tres was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome (a form of autism) in 2010. At the age of 20, Tres’s attempt to study computer programming at Texas State Technical College (TSTC) went poorly because when COVID struck, TSTC decided to teach all classes online. Tres, like many of us, learns best in an in-person, multi-sensory environment, so online classes were difficult and Tres was back at our house with little to do.
Just before heading to teach my first CIT class, I realized that Tres is like “State’s Exhibit A” in a jury trial to prove autism beyond a reasonable doubt. I threw on a business jacket and told Tres to find a clean shirt. We headed to the sheriff’s office to share our story, each not quite knowing what the other would say to the police officers in the CIT audience. The class went so well that we taught it for BCSO several times. I later utilized what I learned at TDCAA’s Train the Trainer course to create a PowerPoint, and I named our presentation “Autism and Law Enforcement.”
What we teach
In the class, Tres explains that he is the oldest of three sons, a “military brat,” a public high school graduate,[1] a “gamer,” an employee, a recently licensed driver, and an “autism ambassador.” Tres talks plainly about:
• how people with autism communicate differently,
• how sensory integration issues result in stimming. “Stimming” is short for self-stimulatory behavior: repetitive self-soothing behaviors that go beyond what is culturally acceptable. For example, nail biting, pacing, and hair twirling can be acceptable in the United States, but hand flapping, spinning, jumping, rocking back and forth, lining up objects, and repetition of words and phrases are not. Most people “stim” in subtle ways, but autistic stimming is usually more extreme in type, quantity, and obviousness of the behavior.
• how hyper-attending to restricted interests (trains when he was younger, graphic novels when he was a teenager, video games as a young adult) is soothing and helps him learn,
• how literal thinking and an inability to see beyond the present moment keeps him from understanding what happens next or the consequences of his actions,
• what he has learned from Applied Behavioral Analysis (ABA), specifically equine therapy,
• why it is difficult to make and keep friends,
• what he learned as a teenager about emotional regulation, self-control, and conflict resolution from the Explorer Program at the Belton Police Department,
• the importance of an understanding employer,
• his reasoning behind behaviors that sometimes led to his mother (me) calling the police, and
• his fear that people who look and act like him will be misunderstood and hurt by police officers.
Near the end of the presentation, we talk about some crises in our family, some of which involved calling 911 when Tres ran away after heated arguments with family members. In one example, I describe talking to dispatch and realizing that in that moment, I was giving away control of my special-needs son to strangers who may or may not know anything about autism. I was inviting police officers to assist in a crisis they might not well understand—and it was terrifying. I felt I had to do it in case my son was violent and willing to run away from home, but I was also worried that if officers became loud, used metaphors or abstract language, touched him, or expected him to act like the adult he appears to be (but often does not function as), his confusion or resistance could result in injuries or a fight—escalation instead of de-escalation. Our presentation aims to prevent these things with all ASD or IDD youth and adults. These are the reasons a 22-year-old spends countless hours with his mother talking to strangers about some of the darkest moments of his life.
Feedback after our class has been overwhelmingly positive, but reactions from students throughout the three-hour session are an evolution of acceptance. During the first 30 minutes, Tres and I see lots of crossed arms, bodies leaned back in chairs, and skeptical facial expressions. As Tres talks and shares his life story, officers lean forward, open up their body posture, nod their heads, and smile. By the end of the class, officers frequently shake Tres’s hand and begin conversations about video games or Tres’s knife collection. Some have told him that he is one of the best “instructors” they have ever had. What we have learned from this evolution during class is that many officers have never had a class about autism, so in the beginning of our presentation, there is skepticism and uncertainty. Once officers hear about and see autism in Tres and his mother, there is anger—which evolves into relief. We have heard statements such as, “I’ve been an officer for many years and I knew nothing about autism. Now I get it,” and “Looking back, I’ve arrested and thrown autistic people in jail. I have been part of the problem. Now I can be part of the solution.”
The McLennan County DA’s Office makes a difference
Interest in training to improve interactions with people with autism continued in other law enforcement departments in Central Texas. In April 2021, retired Police Chief Lydia Alvarado was refining a CIT class at McLennan College Emergency Services Education Center (MCESEC). Waco Police Officer Bradley DeLange, who has a bachelor’s degree in psychology and a master’s degree in human services counseling, assisted Chief Alvarado in teaching the initial classes. When Officer DeLange later took over the CIT classes at MCESEC, he showed an intense interest in autism and continued to incorporate Tres’s and my “Autism and Law Enforcement” class into his instruction. Based on that interest, Dawn gave Officer DeLange an ASK bag for his own use as a patrol officer on the streets in Waco. Within days of having the ASK bag in his patrol car, Officer DeLange used it to connect with ASD and IDD citizens in crisis. (More on that in a moment.)
I shared Officer DeLange’s ASK bag success stories with McLennan County Criminal District Attorney Barry Johnson and then-First Assistant Nelson Barnes. Barry and Nelson offered to use asset forfeiture funds to purchase 100 ASK Bags for the Waco Police Department. When I told Officer DeLange about this generous offer, he accepted on behalf of the Waco PD and asked for the “Autism and Law Enforcement” class to be part of fall in-service training for every officer in the department.
Armed with my boss’ support and a police department receptive to training about autism, I called Killeen Police Sergeant Tyler McEowen, who was also interested in the autism training. As a result, both the Waco and Killeen Police Departments implemented the “Autism and Law Enforcement” class as part of their mandatory fall “in service” training. From September 2021 to February 2022, Tres taught 27 classes (each at least 2½ hours long) to more than 400 police officers, 24 of them with me and three with his board-certified behavioral analyst Kristen Tindell, BCBA, LPC. After these classes, the McLennan County DA’s Office gave 100 ASK bags to Waco PD while a grant obtained by the Bell County Juvenile Probation Department purchased and distributed 105 ASK bags to 12 different law enforcement agencies all over Texas.
ASK bag success stories
In the fall of 2021, Officer DeLange was dispatched to a call involving a mother whose 6-year-old son was refusing to buckle his seatbelt. Officer DeLange found the mother in the driver’s seat of an SUV with her head in her hands. There was 9-year-old in the back seat and a 6-year-old boy (let’s call him Alex) in the third row. When Officer DeLange asked how he could help the visibly distraught mother, she began to unravel. She explained that Alex suffers from Oppositional Defiant Disorder (ODD) and Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), and that she was recently divorced because Alex’s father could not deal with the incredible amount of work required to care for Alex. She had just spent two hours trying to buckle Alex’s seat belt so she could retrieve her third child from daycare. Mom the caregiver was experiencing a crisis.
Armed with his educational background and informed by experiences Tres and I have talked about, Officer DeLange speculated that Alex was exhibiting signs of undiagnosed autism. As he spoke to Alex, he observed context clues, such as a chewed-on necklace around Alex’s neck, a fidget spinner in the seat beside him, and the child’s highly specific and intense interest in Halo-Reach (a videogame). Officer DeLange returned to his patrol car and found his ASK bag, from which he retrieved a chewy tube and a fidget spinner. With Alex’s mother’s permission, Officer DeLange gave Alex a healthy, safe object designed for oral fixation. He then told Alex that if he “buckled up,” he would give him a new fidget spinner. Upon hearing these words, Alex immediately buckled his seat belt. At the end of this 15-minute interaction about a chewy toy, fidget spinner, and Halo, Alex was compliant and asked his mother if Officer DeLange could come over to play video games sometime. Mom broke down in tears again, thanking the officer for being the first person to take time to listen to, understand, and not judge her family. She commended him for jumping into her world and connecting with her special-needs child.
During another shift, a fellow officer with over 15 years of patrol experience called Officer DeLange as DeLange arrived at work. This veteran officer asked DeLange to skip roll call and join him at the home of an autism family. On scene, police officers were greeted at the door by a 6-foot-6, 240-pound 18-year-old man wearing only an adult diaper. (Let’s call him Jack.) Jack communicated through grunts and physically grabbing a person’s arm to guide him or her around the home. Officer DeLange placed his ASK bag on the kitchen table, hoping its contents would pull Jack’s attention away from his mother and thereby provide the officers an opportunity to talk to her. Jack’s mom told the officers that she was at her wits’ end. Her son’s routine had been interrupted so he became aggressive with her, and she had visible bruises from the assault. When she called Child Protective Services (CPS) for help, CPS told her to call the police, as CPS didn’t have any available resources to respond immediately.
As officers spoke with the mother, Jack unpacked the ASK bag and playfully put the hat, stocking cap, and sunglasses on Officer DeLange, as if DeLange was a life-size police dress-up doll. As Jack rearranged the hats and sunglasses on Officer DeLange, Jack calmed down and allowed the officers to discuss with his mother the routine disruption that had spiraled out of control and into a crisis. Officers also noticed Jack’s aversion to fluorescent lights. When Officer DeLange asked the mother if Jack was sensitive to bright light, she said she did not know, but Jack often went around the house turning off light switches. Officers changed a florescent lightbulb to create a dimmer atmosphere and immediately noticed a positive change in Jack’s behavior. Officers were aware of potential light sensitivity and sensory integration issues because each had attended the class Tres and I taught.
By the end of the call, Jack was quietly and peacefully sitting on the living room floor. His mother explained through tears that she was afraid to call police because the last time she called 911 (in a different city), police officers yelled at and handcuffed her son. Although her son had struck her repeatedly and she could not defend herself from him alone, she was terrified to call 911 for help.
Autism and prosecution
While prosecuting felonies in Bell and McLennan Counties, I came across cases where children and adults on the autism spectrum were crime victims, witnesses, or suspects. In many of these cases, criminal justice professionals misunderstood them. The language used by patrol officers, detectives, medical doctors, trained forensic interviewers, nurses, and lawyers was often inadequate to reach into the minds and experiences of these neuro-diverse citizens to retrieve information relevant to trauma and the elements of an offense (often indecency with or sexual assault of a child). Children for whom communication is not an instinct and who lack the ability to make inferences from context will rarely relate a “story” to a stranger. People with autism also have poor insight into their own behavior, as well as the behavior of others. All of these things are core deficits of ASD.
The same is true for suspects with ASD. I once had case of aggravated sexual assault of a child in which a judge ruled an oral and written confession to be involuntary after two detectives questioned a young man with autism for over three hours as he sat in the corner of a small room. The detectives sat between him and the door to exit. He denied the offense 16 times but eventually repeated words stated by the officers so that the questioning would end. My experience as an autism parent prompted me to ask our indigent defense office and mental health court professionals to assist the young man’s defense attorney in evaluating him for autism. At the age of 28, the young man was diagnosed with autism, which provided a basis of understanding for the counterintuitive behavior that led detectives to unfair interrogation techniques and erroneous conclusions.
Conclusion
Whether and how people affected by autism share their diagnoses and stories is a very personal decision. Tres has given our family permission to be transparent and openly discuss his diagnosis, struggles, and success. In our classes, we do not tell people about autism—we show people autism. We have been told that this is why our presentation resonates with our audience. We will continue to share it as many times and as much as we can.
If you have questions about the ASK bags or my and Tres’s presentation, please email us at [email protected], or check out the Facebook page, “Bell County Autism Intervention Team.”
Editor’s note: The author would like to thank Officer Bradley DeLange, Dawn Owens, and Kristi Tindell for their contributions to this article.
Sidebar: Intervening with juveniles with autism
At the same time Tres and I began teaching “Autism and Law Enforcement” to local law enforcement, my friend and colleague, Dawn Owens, Assistant Director of Juvenile Probation in Bell County, saw a continued need for the juvenile justice system to work with law enforcement to understand youth with Autism Spectrum Disorder and IDD (intellectual and developmental disabilities). Her probation officers were recognizing that inadequate interfacing with this population exacerbated and escalated already difficult situations and caused these youths to accrue more criminal charges and technical violations of probation, often pushing them farther into both the juvenile and adult criminal justice systems. Juvenile probation officers also observed that when these youths were detained in pre-adjudication facilities, incidents of aggressive behaviors and rates of restraint increased when direct care staff were unfamiliar with the most appropriate intervention strategies. (Strategies that are best for those with ASD and IDD differ from traditional cognitive behavioral approaches.) In addition, when placement outside the home was necessary, locating facilities that specialize in serving youth with ASD or IDD was very difficult—which also contributes to pushing this special population farther into criminal justice systems.
Dawn observed that from 2014–2019, Bell County Juvenile Services (BCJS) experienced an increase in juveniles with ASD and IDD characteristics entering the juvenile justice system. Oftentimes, these children did not carry a formal diagnosis because their caregivers or schools did not seek appropriate assessments or accept diagnoses suggested by medical or mental health professionals. Juvenile justice professionals oftentimes did not have an accurate paper trail detailing the educational and behavioral backgrounds of the youth entering their care. BCJS also received a pattern of referrals for assault family violence in which the caregiver or parent was unable to control the youth’s behavior and had no known resources to access for help. The caregiver often felt his or her only option was to call police, which resulted in the child’s arrest and placement in a detention facility.
Following significant challenges with several cases involving undiagnosed youth with ASD characteristics and IDD, in October 2019, BCJS sought grant funding from the Texas Juvenile Justice Department to develop and implement a continuum of care, beginning with prevention and early intervention to divert ASD and IDD youth to community supports and services. BCJS uses the “Checklist for Autism Spectrum Disorder” (CASD) during the initial intake process for every youth who enters its system.[2]
In cooperation with BAIT, BCJS allocated specific grant funds for the development and distribution of ASK Bags to provide police officers with tools and strategies to de-escalate situations on the scene and in the field.
Endnotes
[1] My spouse and I began seeking a diagnosis for Tres when he failed to use words at age 2. We utilized Early Childhood Intervention (ECI) until he qualified for speech therapy through public schools at age 3. That same year, a developmental pediatrician “ruled out” autism. Just before Tres turned 11, he was diagnosed with Asperger’s Syndrome (a form of autism). Tres attended a Head Start Program at age 4 and was mainstreamed into general education classrooms from K–12 grades where he received speech and occupational therapy, and until high school, accommodations on state-required standardized tests. He proudly graduated from Belton New Tech High School in 2018.
[2] This checklist is available for purchase at https://stoeltingco.com/Psychological-Testing/Checklist-for-Autism-Spectrum-Disorder-CASD~10032.